March 2011
22 posts
2 tags
1. when your eyes meet his across the crowded bar
when your eyes meet his across the crowded bar
you are alky and he is flame
a guy in your psych class is
going at it against the wall
with a girl in lace tights and
smeared lipstick, and
you wish they wouldn’t, haphazard
under the strobe lights
people give themselves away too easily and
the world is too big to find a soul that has let away
when your friends are blaring off-tune about the...
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2. when your eyes meet his across the crowded bar
when your eyes meet his across the crowded bar
space and time and distance meld
into one and the only divination
the only dimension plotted is
the displacement in between
his gaze is a hundred luster beams
a thousand voltaic pulses
the incandescent flare of something lit up by nothing as
your nose grazes his
you aren’t two ships passing in the twilight
when your eyes meet his across the crowded...
i began two weeks before spring break
i finished it a week too late
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tragic&alive;: You Don't Know What Love Is. →
thank you, i know i said i might love you for everything
i do.
desperatelyquiet:
Same old, same old.
Yet another one.
I’m always here if you need anything.
You know this poem, as do I.
To hell, to hell.
You Don’t Know What Love Is but you know how to raise it in me like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to wash off the sludge, the stench of our past. How to start clean. This love...
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desperatelyquiet asked: HIHIHI so I just saw you 5 minutes ago and am stalking you again but I haven't been able to find a spring poem that I like yet BUT NOW I HAVE :D Lunch/dinner/coffee soon? (:
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Onset; kim addonizio
Watching that frenzy of insects above the bush of white flowers,
the bush I see everywhere on hill after hill, all I can think of
is how terrifying spring is, in its tireless, mindless replications.
Everywhere emergence: seed case, chrysalis, uterus, endless manufacturing.
And the wrapped stacks of Styrofoam cups in the grocery, lately
I can’t stand them, the...
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for desire; kim addonizio
Give me the strongest cheese, the one that stinks best; and I want the good wine, the swirl in crystal surrendering the bruised scent of blackberries, or cherries, the rich spurt in the back of the throat, the holding it there before swallowing. Give me the lover who yanks open the door of his house and presses me to the wall in the dim hallway, and keeps me there until...
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